When today is too late
by capricorn5
Summary: A short story based on a fanfiction gif, post-reichenbach about the relationship between Sherlock and John.


It had been three years since the death of the only consulting detective in the world. Or so was what the world seemed to believe. In order to protect his friends, Sherlock Holmes had to fake his own death. He had seen John and Mrs. Hudson at his own funeral. He heard the words John said to his grave, his last homage, and realised how pain can cut sharper than knives. He thought he was above all that. He wasn't. Moriarty had used his worst weapon against him and it had worked. Now, three years later, Sherlock had known the world. He had travelled to different places and made different things under different identities. But, three years later and with only one enemy to get rid of – Sebastian Moran – Sherlock was thinking that maybe it was time to return. He just hoped John would forgive him. He had to. It was for his own good. His, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade. Mycroft and Molly had been his accomplices and he was forever grateful to them.

Despite all the time he had been away, he tried to keep track of John's movements. He was alert. He didn't want his friend to crawl back into depression and make something stupid. He wanted him to be safe. He had followed him sometimes, and since he had finally returned to London and settled there again, disguised as an old book-seller, it was easier to follow John's everyday steps. He saw him moving on. Going on dates that would never work out. One day Molly had dinner with him at Baker Street. She had left crying and Sherlock could see John's shadow trembling with the sobs, flickering with the light that came through the window. Still, Sherlock had kept his distance. He had tried to follow John through his blog but it hadn't been updated in years. Still, from time to time he would still go there, to look at the words John wrote back when life was easier at 221B. It made him feel closer to John.

Sherlock got home and removed his disguise, like he did every day. He drank a little bit of water but refused to eat. Life hadn't been easy on him. Giving up on John was the hardest thing he ever had to do. If John only knew, if he had told him. That Sherlock really noticed. How John drank his coffee in the morning, with no sugar, holding the cup with his left hand. His complete inability to type more than 5 words per hour. The way those ridiculous jumpers looked on him. Sherlock smirked. He knew he drove him crazy sometimes, still John never left. He had never said the words, but don't acts count for something? And John had made so many things for him. He was the only one to appreciate his deduction skills instead of being threatened by them, and that showed how clever John was. He had killed a man to save Sherlock just a few days after they met. And he was the only one to defend him when agent Donovan attacked him and when people stopped believing him. John, even after the fall and that phone call, never, not even for a second, doubted. He should have told him. That he loved him, that is. The words were always choking on his throat, waiting to come out. John, I love you. How hard could it be? So difficult, for him, who never learnt how to love and how to feel and how to express what was in his heart. And now it was too late. John would never know. What if he came back? He could take care of Moran, get rid of his worst enemy, and start again, this time with John by his side, not just in adventure, but in life. Not just during the day, but helping him fill the dark hours of his nights.

His computer beeped. A message. There had been an update on John's blog. Sherlock opened the page and saw it there, as hard as it was to believe. John had left a video. Sherlock clicked on it. It was John.

"I think it's time for me to get back on this thing. Vlogging is the thing nowadays. I've been told. Things are going great. Better than great, actually."

Sherlock smiled.

"My girlfriend is pregnant; I am going to be dad!"

Sherlock froze on his chair. John continued.

"I'll keep you updated. Bye!"

The screen faded to black.

Sherlock closed the laptop lid, still in shock. John was going to be a father. The ache on his chest was unbearable. Something he was not used to feel. It was lost, he thought. He, Sherlock Holmes, had lost his John Watson forever.


End file.
